Page 58 of Sinful Scars

Calling her is risky. Any one of the Koslovs could be listening in.

But after learning about her child, I have an urge to check in, to warn her to be careful. My father is a cruel man, and he would think nothing of using his own grandchild as a bargaining tool.

Before the silence of my apartment grows too heavy to bear, I head into the tiny bedroom, which has nothing but a bare mattress on the floor and an open suitcase filled with some clothes.

My maternal grandmother might have left me a fair amount of money when she died, but I have no desire to spend it on furnishing a place I’m never in.

Material things don’t matter to me.

Only Elle does.

I find one of my many burner phones hidden among my clothes. At least this way, I can be certain that she or any of the Koslovs can’t track my location.

Perching on the edge of the mattress, I dial Nina’s number and hold my breath as the phone starts to ring.

“Hello?” My sister’s voice has my chest feeling like it’s being ripped open. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Nina?” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat as I wait for her to reply.

“Lev.” She sighs. “You’re alive.”

“Are you alone?”

“For the most part.” I catch the sound of a baby crying in the background, and I fight the urge to hang up the phone. “Things have changed a lot since we last spoke.”

“Are you happy?”

“I didn’t know what happiness was until recently… Anyway, how…how are you? Have you spoken to dad recently?”

“Have you?”

“No… I’m not exactly in his good books right now.”

“Welcome to the club.”

She laughs quietly, and my lips twitch at the sound.

“Does he know?” I can’t bring myself to voice my concerns directly, but Nina seems to catch on to what I’m saying.

“Yes, but don’t worry. He’s not getting anywhere near my daughter.”

“He has his ways, Nina.”

“And I’m taking every precaution necessary. Is that why you called?”

I say nothing, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turn white.

“It’s nice that you care.”

“I should go?—”

“Her name is Lilya.”

I freeze. “After your mother.”

“She looks like her a lot, actually.”

There’s rustling in the background followed by anothercry from the baby that has a wave of loneliness hitting me like a ton of bricks.

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